


pyrrhocoris

by seongyu



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ghosts, Graphic descriptions of fire, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, graphic descriptions of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 02:30:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8185787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seongyu/pseuds/seongyu
Summary: pyrrhocoris: a genus of true bugs in which "the firebug" is the best known
“You know.” Jooheon says “Minhyuk was a good kid. He didn't deserve to die.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. English is not my native language, thanks for understanding!
> 
> This is not a happy one. Please read the tags and make sure this is your cup of tea before reading! ❤️

People are not the only ones who can dance. Colors can too. When red and golden sparks meet in the middle, twirl around each other as if hungry for each other's embrace, it looks like a sensual waltz -- and it is impossible to look away. So Changkyun doesn't. He watches the flames move in unison as they devour the house whole and there is nothing he can do about it. It's a performance he's unworthy of stopping. Even when there is a piercing scream resonating through the October air, and a figure engulfed in a golden embrace emerges from the clutches of the flames. There is not a single thing he can do about it. This person has already been taken by the fire.

\--

The house has been burnt to a crisp, and so has the surrounding lawn and the adjacent trees. A few curious kids gather in front of the charred carcass of the building, pointing at it, aweing at the sight, wondering that perhaps there's a person beneath all of the rubble. They leave before they scare themselves too much.

Changkyun wouldn't be able to avoid the sight even if he had wanted to. He sees it from the living room, on his way back from school, from the playground and the park, and it's like the house is haunting him. Sometimes he thinks he sees the faint ghost of a big wooden structure tower meekly in the moonlight, and he has to convince himself that it's not real. The house is gone. And so are the people who once lived inside it. 

He didn't know his neighbors, and even if he feels guilty about it now, he knows that it doesn't make a damn difference. It was a family of three, he thinks, just like his own. Sometimes he saw the son exiting the front door early in the morning and disappear down the road into the fog. And sometimes he saw him return too, late at night, doused in the yellow tint of the lampposts that made him glow as if his skin were golden. That was all Changkyun knew about the boy: he didn't know how old he was, even if he looked older than himself, he didn't know his name or where he went to school. He didn't know why he left so early in the morning and came home so late, if even at all. And it leaves a hole in Changkyun, because he will actually never really know. But he can't do anything about it now either way. He tries to rid himself of the guilt that he shouldn't be feeling in the first place. 

Changkyun leaves the scene of crime behind for the day. He will come back tomorrow. He always does.

\--

His bicycle comes to a halt, brakes screeching audibly through the vicious winter breezes. It cuts through him like knives. He tightens the scarf around his neck and the jacket around his frame, hoping that it will warm him up, but it doesn't. Maybe it's not just the weather that is making him feel this way.

There are people today as well. This time the crowd has grown significantly, as if the news has finally reached the rest of the town, and they must all get a glimpse of the tragedy. Some take pictures and others film. Changkyun thinks he can see a big white van with a familiar logo etched onto the sides but he disregards it. He only watches the ashes of the house intently, thinking that maybe there actually is someone underneath, and the hand will emerge any second now, scorched and bleeding, but it doesn't. Thankfully. Changkyun guides the bike around to the other side of the crowd, and it somehow looks different from the other angle. The hole where the trees once stood leaves space for desolation: it looks naked and bare and the grey sky takes up more of his vision, and it just looks so miserable. It's a sight best suited for nightmares and deep fears, and Changkyun is not quite sure what to feel about it all. Perhaps this is what death looks like. 

And contrasted with the grey skies and molten clouds, Changkyun can impossibly miss the swelling redness that creeps up in the corner of his eyes: a burning candlelight, a scalding sun, slowly approaching him and the house. Changkyun is sure he would have noticed the boy either way, because he sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the dullness of the dark haired crowd: his head is glowing a bright red, black at the roots as if matching the charred wood in front of him. He stops not far away from Changkyun, and mimics his position, hunched and disturbed, but curiosity elongating his limbs. Maybe there is that glint of fascination in him as well. 

Their eyes meet. His are squinted and dark, and Changkyun can't really make out what they truly look like, so he diverts his gaze. They looked dangerous, in a way. He does not dare to look at him anymore and just settles on the crowd instead. They too turn their heads away from the red-haired boy, presumably for the same reasons as Changkyun. He is a delinquent. A never-do-well and a troublemaker. That's why no one will talk to him. That's why no one will even acknowledge him. Changkyun leaves before he has to see the redness again. 

His mom is a kind woman but she is too protective, and it had never really struck Changkyun until now. Many mothers had become like that in the past few days since the burning, and his too, if not more so. Changkyun can’t help that they happen to live so close to the scene of incident, and it's not like he will spontaneously combust if he happens to stay out later than curfew. Nonetheless his mom insists on his behavior, and his father only nods in agreement. Changkyun doesn't protest because he never does.

\--

There are no candles left in the house anymore. One must always make sure to check that the gas is turned off. The heater must be on low heat. If the oil starts burning in the pan, you throw a wet towel over it, not water. Suffocate the flames. Don't be like the neighbors. Don't die in a fire.

\--

The sun is already on its way down, but it's winter so Changkyun should have anticipated it. He's technically not allowed outside past sunset, but that fact just so happens to coincide with his afternoon classes, and his mom is not one to deny education even over security. The internal debate is obvious in her eyes when she thinks that, sure maybe being outside alone can't directly correlate to dying in a fire, and maybe Changkyun can stay outside if he wants to. He leaves before she can change her mind or add any further rules to her amendment.

The rubble almost looks like a fallen creature in the dusk. The wooden splinters stick up like the bones of a deceased animal, and if Changkyun listens hard enough he hears it moan in agony (or maybe that's just what he wants to hear). The yellow light of the lamppost illuminate a spot that ought to be filled by the presence of a blond boy, sneaking in through the front door soundlessly, but there is only a void and somehow in the dark, Changkyun feels sad. It could have been him. He could have been the one who died in the fire instead of that boy. It's funny how the world works sometimes. 

There is a shadow behind him, and he would have been startled if he hadn't known that the sight attracts many visitors. Still, he turns around to see who might think to visit this grave as the sun merely peeks over the horizon and shrouds the world in an orange glow, and he finds it odd that it matches his hair. The red-haired boy, feisty eyes and all, approaches him slowly, emerging from the darkness like the sudden flap of a bat’s wing. There is menace in the way his arms move and the way his knuckles tighten: they must have seen many fights and felt a lot of pain. Changkyun just stands still and takes him in because there is nothing else that he can distract himself with. 

The boy watches him intently, but doesn't say anything. He only settles beside him in the same position he had been seen in the day before: hunched and closing in on himself, yet the spark still gleaming in his dangerous eyes. He watches the rubbles, like one would watch the rolling waves of a stormy sea. 

His cigarette lights up, and smoke surrounds him. It seems so fitting, Changkyun thinks, that his hair is on fire and smoke engulfs him as if he's the one aflame, the spark that started it all. Changkyun wonders if the boy has a reason to be here, or if he simply enjoys destruction. 

Changkyun stares for a while more before he tightens his grip on the handles of his bike and starts walking. The boy does not stop him. He does not say anything at all, but Changkyun knows he is watching him. The gaze burns him in his back like the sting of a cigarette.

\--

Never leave candles burning during the night. Don't set them near flammable items, such as wooden furniture, or detergent. Make sure they don't tip over in their holder. Avoid fire hazards such as overloaded outlets or electrical cords. Don't leave Christmas lights on when not at home. Make sure there are no gas leaks. Turn off the gas when you're done using it. Don't let the children play with fire. Don't let matches or lighters be easily accessible. Make sure the smoke detector works properly. Don't leave food unattended on the stove. Don't smoke inside. Don't smoke in bed or in the kitchen. Don't throw the cigarettes around the house. Always catch the ashes in an ashtray.

Changkyun wonders which one of these mistakes his neighbors made.

\--

He doesn't even need to properly look to know that the red-haired boy is standing beside him. His aura is just easily recognizable, strong and imposing, and Changkyun could probably feel it from miles away. He does not meet the boy’s eyes. He does not need to.

There are workers rummaging through the dark pile of unrecognizable household items, things that once decorated the walls of the hallway, or furniture an innocent family once sat on. It is almost haunting. The smell is still there, and Changkyun wonders if it's the smell of dead bodies. The workers load the rubbles onto a truck and disappear down the road. There is only a big black circle left and it looks like a hole that Changkyun could jump into and end up on the other side of the earth. The idea feels strangely tempting. 

The red-haired boy leaves before he does this time. He throws his cigarette down onto the ground and pulls out another one. It's his sixth one today.

\--

Changkyun is more popular nowadays. There is a rumor that he was actually there when it happened, that he saw the house fall into pieces and a person screaming, aflame and helpless. People gather around him like flies, curious to hear what he has to say, but Changkyun doesn't speak much. He never has, and he never will. Did he really just stand there and watch? Did he not even call the fire department or the ambulance? Did he just witness the end of a life? It's scary for some, and for others it's fascinating. Changkyun would have enjoyed the attention if it weren't so fleeting. Once this is over, he will be forgotten again. Just a nobody like he always has been.

The press is going to come for him eventually, they say. That the rumors are going to spread and before he knows it, the local news anchor will be knocking at his door, begging for his witness. And Changkyun thinks that if people really are so curious then he'll let them come.

\--

The boy is sitting down this time. His body curls into itself, hands clutching at his legs until his knuckles turn white. He looks so small and helpless in the yellow light of the lamppost, and Changkyun almost feels sorry for him though he doesn't know why. He leaves his bike behind and sits beside the boy, who looks up to gaze at him: and his eyes are soft and droopy. The stinginess is gone and the danger has faded like vapor into the air. Changkyun thinks that looking sad suits him.

They stay silent for a while. Changkyun only watches the darkness in front of him, traces the outline of the burnt grass with his eyes, until he has to go back and do it the other way again. 

“Did you know Minhyuk?” 

The boy’s voice startles him. It's a bit higher than Changkyun had expected, or maybe it's because the silence amplifies any sound that can possibly be made. It suits him though: it's soft and soothing. 

Changkyun did not know Minhyuk. He only knew his hooded figure and late arrivals but that is all. 

“No.” He answers. 

“Why are you here then?” The boy looks at him now and Changkyun pretends not to notice. 

“I live just across the road.”

The boy nods understandingly and he curls further into himself. Changkyun finally looks at him.

“What's your name?” He says. 

“Jooheon. You?”

“Changkyun.” 

The boy nods again. It has replaced most of his words now and Changkyun also feels himself losing part of his vocabulary, although he does not know why. Maybe that was the kind of effect that Jooheon has on people: making them speechless. 

“Did you know him?” Changkyun asks. The boy is silent for a while and silence is the only answer he really needs. 

“He was a friend of mine.” 

Changkyun nods this time, and he starts to understand why Jooheon stops by everyday to look at the vacant spot where his friend used to live. Maybe he once crossed that doorframe, or sat on the couch in the living room, or the bed in Minhyuk's room. Maybe he misses being there. Maybe that's why he comes back. 

Jooheon pulls out a lighter from his pocket, and fishes out a cigarette from the other. He poises it between slender fingers and inhales sharply. The smoke surrounds him again, and this time Changkyun shares the space with him. They sit in a cloud of nicotine together, and Changkyun breathes it all in. It smells faintly like burnt wood but it's not the same. 

“I'm sorry for your loss.” Changkyun says. That's what you're supposed to say right? He doesn't really know, because this truly is a new experience. Jooheon only laughs and he can't tell whether it's out of amusement or mockery. 

“You can skip all that shit, I've heard it a thousand times before.” 

“Okay. Sorry.”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen.” Jooheon seems to count in his mind. 

“You in high school still?” Changkyun nods this time again. Jooheon smiles a bit. The glowing ashes fall from his cigarette and land next to his feet. The redness aches momentarily until it fades. “Poor guy.” 

“Did you and Minhyuk go to the same school?” 

“Nah. We didn't go to school.” A delinquent. Well, it's not like his hair didn't give him away already. “We hated school.” 

Silence falls again. Changkyun kind of wonders what Jooheon would have looked like in a school uniform and with the black hair that was his natural one. Maybe he would have looked kinder, less intimidating. Changkyun finds that hard to imagine. 

He also wonders what Minhyuk looked like. He would recognize his hair anywhere of course, because there aren’t many who sport dirty bleached hair like that, but what did his face look like? Was it scary and intimidating like Jooheon's or did he have soft and cheerful features? Changkyun knows that they probably never would have been friends either way, but somewhere inside his mind he imagines himself sitting on the bed next to a blurry-faced blond boy and a red-haired friend. It would never happen but it’s funny to think about. 

“I have to go now.” Changkyun stands up, and Jooheon looks surprised, as if he doesn't really want to be left alone. “Will you be here tomorrow?” 

“Yes.” Jooheon says “Always.”

\--

Maybe Minhyuk was a smoker just like Jooheon. Maybe he had been lying in bed, inhaling the toxic smoke, thrown the cigarette away for it land under his bed. Maybe something had caught fire, and it had spread during the night when they were sleeping. Changkyun hopes that Minhyuk died peacefully in his sleep, and that he didn't feel anything.

He wasn't the one who ran out of the door engulfed in flames. Was he?

\--

Jooheon sits there again and Changkyun joins him. A warm drink is pushed into his hands.

“I don't know what you like. I got you coffee.” 

“I don't like coffee.”

“Tough shit.” Jooheon takes the cup back and sets it beside him. He sips on his own, and Changkyun thinks that the other one will have turned cold before he finishes the first one. 

They watch people walk by, some stop and stare in awe, others whisper and point, and some, a few of them, just keep their heads down and keep walking. It's hard staring into death like that. 

“Were you and Minhyuk close?” Changkyun asks and he doesn't know if it's too personal of a question, if Jooheon will scowl and snarl at him. He has that look on his face at first, but his features soften eventually. 

“I guess. We could have been called best friends if we actually used those kinds of words.” He looks down into his cup. “Yeah. We were best friends.” 

It's worse than Changkyun had thought and he's bad with words. He only sits in silence, wants to pat Jooheon on the back but it would be weird. Changkyun doesn't want to be weird with Jooheon as well. That's how the whole school knows him already. There has to be at least someone, anyone who knows Changkyun for who he is. 

“Do you know what happened?” Changkyun asks.

“Huh?” 

“Why there was a fire.”

“How should I know? You're the neighbor. You're supposed to be the one who knows all this stuff.” 

“I don't know, I'm sorry.” 

Jooheon tuts “Then I guess we’ll never know.”

That makes Changkyun want to vomit.

\--

Minhyuk does not have a face but that doesn't stop Changkyun from seeing him. He sits beside him, laughing a hearty laugh, one that can be heard across fields and mountains. That's how Minhyuk sounds in Changkyun's mind: maybe he's wrong. Maybe he isn't. He reminds himself to ask Jooheon.

Minhyuk is funny too. He doesn't have the same kind of humor that Changkyun does: he's a bit more witty and clever, but that complements Changkyun pretty well. 

Minhyuk hates school, but he loves dogs. In fact, he loves almost all animals, but maybe he's a bit too energetic to be able to take care of one. 

Minhyuk is messy. He rarely cleans his room, lets his clothes pile up on his chair or speckle his floor like a disorganized chessboard. He doesn't like cleaning either, and it's not like his mom would do it for him. (She doesn't want to enter the pig’s sty). Minhyuk thrives in his own mess, because he is the one who created it. Everything is just so much better when you do it yourself.

\--

Changkyun forgets to turn off the heater after he left for school. His mom scolds him. Does he want to die in a house fire? Does he want to be just like his neighbors?

Does he want to be like Minhyuk?

\--

“Were you and him similar?”

Jooheon had suggested they go somewhere warmer instead of sitting on frozen asphalt. Changkyun can barely make his voice overpower the rumble of the crowd. Jooheon only looks at him from the seat across him, coffee in his hand. 

“Who?”

“Minhyuk.” 

Jooheon blinks a few times before closing his eyes a bit. It feels like an eternity, but Changkyun sits only a brief moment in silence, looking at Jooheon's closed eyelids and wondering what the boy is seeing. 

“In some ways, I think. We were both pretty rowdy.” Jooheon smiles a bit “We always got into trouble because we literally wouldn't shut up.” Changkyun laughs as well. He can see them both, voices raised and trouble etched into their limbs as if they were truly born for mischief. 

“You know.” Jooheon says “Minhyuk was a good kid. He didn't deserve to die.”

Changkyun is surprised by the statement, but agrees nonetheless. “Of course not.”

“I know it sounds obvious. But he really didn't. He was too young to die like that. Who cares about his parents, you know? They were assholes. They probably deserved it either way. But Minhyuk didn't deserve to die.” Jooheon chokes a bit on his words “And what a way to go, huh?” 

Some people have turned to look at them, and Changkyun knows that they know. They all know them by now. The two boys who know more about the fire than others, who have a connection with that dark circle across the road. And Changkyun knows they're listening, and it feels wrong because they're not supposed to be a part of it: Minhyuk is what ties Jooheon and Changkyun together, the fire that he died in is the only reason they met. Changkyun doesn't want anyone to take that away from them. 

“Maybe he didn't feel a thing.” Changkyun says quietly, but Jooheon isn’t listening either way. “Maybe he didn't suffer at all.” 

“Stop it.” His words are sharp and abrupt and they hurt in a way. “Let’s get out of here.” 

They leave without paying.

\--

Minhyuk leaves early in the morning, but Changkyun can still see his hooded figure in the light of the dawn. It's a gentle light, makes him soft around the edges. He leaves into the darkness at the end of the road while the sky is brightening behind him, and it's as if the boy is leaving something behind. Changkyun goes back to sleep before he can figure out what it is.

\--

There is a knock on the door one morning, and Changkyun lets his mother open as usual because he's not really part of that world. He lets his teeth sink into the soft bread and sips on his tea. It's so hot it almost burns his tongue.

“Changkyun.” His mother says from the kitchen’s doorway. “The press is here. They want to talk to you.”

\--

Minhyuk doesn't come back home until after midnight. It's a rule by now, and he never breaks it. Maybe the boy finds comfort in being able to say that he hasn't been home all day. Maybe it makes him feel better about himself, because it makes his absence prolonged, it makes it seem as if his home isn't really his home after all: it's just a place to sleep. Maybe his parents are just mere hosts who lend him a room and a roof over his head. That is all. His parents don't have anything else to offer other than hospitality.

Maybe Changkyun understands why Minhyuk won't come home earlier.

\--

_And you were there to witness the fire, correct?_

I saw the light from my window and I saw the flames.

_Was there anything else that caught your eye?_

No. I could only see the fire. 

_How did you feel when you saw it? Were you scared?_

No. Maybe a little bit. But I think I was shocked. I was frozen in place. 

_How so?_

I realized that they were dying and there was not a single thing I could do about it. 

_Other witnesses reported hearing someone screaming? Can you confirm that?_

Yes. There was someone screaming. 

_Could you see the source of the screaming?_

No.

\--

Maybe.

Maybe it was a blond boy.

\--

There are machines where a house once stood. They dig into the ground, and pull out big boulders and an unfathomable amount of dirt. Changkyun wonders if they're going to dig the whole neighborhood up at this rate. Sometimes there are pipes that they need to dig up as well. All traces of the house are to disappear. All signs that there has been a fire and a tragedy are to be erased from the town’s memory. But Changkyun won't ever forget. He doesn't want to.

His father tells him that they'll expand the territory and build a new house on it. In a way, he says, the house will be reborn again, and a new family will move in there eventually. That's how easily Minhyuk's family is going to be forgotten: the town will just replace them with another family and forget anything ever happened. They haven't even raised a memorial for them, no stone with their names carved into them. Changkyun's father says it wouldn't have been a good idea either way, because memorials like that usually never go unscathed either way. People carve obscene words into them, draw inappropriate images and Minhyuk's family name would be sullied. No one wants to remember the victims of a tragedy that they themselves had caused. Next time, they should be more careful. It's sad to think that they don't even get a tombstone: even Changkyun will have one when he dies, his name written in a nostalgic fashion, but that may take a while. He wonders if Minhyuk ever had those thoughts as well: when he would die, how he would die. Did it ever cross his mind that he would die in a fire?

A strong hand grips Changkyun's shoulder and he winces in pain. It's a strong and violent hand, one that has seen many fights and felt a lot of pain. Changkyun knows exactly who it belongs to without looking. That's what he and Jooheon are now: connected in some strange way which enables them to sense one another so quickly. Maybe it's the kind of connection he had with Minhyuk.

“Why the fuck didn't you tell me?” 

Jooheon's voice is rough. It's not low and soft like it usually is, but menacing. There's some kind of danger in it, as if it has spread from his eyes to contaminate the rest of his body: his hands have been taken too. 

Changkyun blinks a few times before he realizes what he means. 

“Why didn't you tell me you saw everything?” 

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Bullshit. I saw the report on the news. Guess you're glad you got your moment in the spotlight, huh?”

Changkyun swallows sharply and the words cut him like knives, they bury deep inside him and he feels the splinters that he will never be able to get out. 

“You know what happened, don't you?”

“No I don't. I only saw the fire.” 

“Don't lie to me.” 

Jooheon is the kind of person who hates being lied to. He hates when people are insincere and think he won't notice. He hates how the sadness rises in his throats like bile, how he wants to expel everything, but it would only come out as tears. He doesn't want to cry in front of Changkyun. 

“I’m not. I swear.” 

But Jooheon's voice is coated in it, that sinking feeling that only surfaces in sorrow and despair, and Changkyun spots it immediately because he too hears it in his mind every night before he falls asleep. The red hair approaches him, like a swift spark that jumps at him, and then it burrows itself in his chest. The boy with the hair on fire, so small and fragile, letting out sobs that only the deepest pain can produce. And Changkyun thinks it reminds him of the burning figure running out the door before falling lifelessly to the ground. It reminds him of helplessness and the loss of innocence. 

“He wasn't supposed to die.” Jooheon says. “Not like that.” And the words come out a bit distorted, a little muffled, because they mingle with Changkyun's shirt and penetrate through his bones.

\--

It's 2 in the morning when Changkyun wakes up to a crackling sound and windows crashing. When he opens his eyelids, still droopy with sleep, there are orange lights dancing on the ceiling, wavering nervously like tree branches in the wind. At first, he thinks it's a dream because the lights are so unnatural and they can't possibly be real. And then, he thinks he must be dead. The light outside his window can only be hellfire.

He stands by the window sill and takes in the sight as if he's greedy for it. The house across the road is illuminated and glows so strongly in the darkness, adopts a divinity that makes Changkyun believe in angels. The windows look like eyes: terrified eyes who bleed red flames that rise into the sky and fade into black smoke. Really, if he doesn't think about it too hard, it's breathtaking. 

And then a figure emerges from the front door, arms raised high towards the heavens as if engaged in some kind of twisted prayer, screaming at the top of their lungs. Maybe it's their way of making themselves heard by God, but God doesn't hear anything, because nothing happens. The figure only keeps screaming and Changkyun wants to look away but he can't. The figure resembles a corpse, charred and bleeding, and Changkyun focuses on one of the arms. Maybe that corpse had a tuft of bleached blond hair, and maybe a dark hoodie clung to his frame. Changkyun doesn't know for sure.

\--

Changkyun hasn't seen Jooheon for days. He stopped coming to the black circle once all the ground had been turned inside out and there were only memories left of the house that once stood there. The crowd has disappeared as well. The town has slowly started to forget the incident. They've forgotten and they've forgiven. Safety precautions against house fires become less common, because everyone has forgotten. Maybe it's just a matter of time before some other poor family loses their lives like Minhyuk's family did.

By now he's the only one left standing. He's the only one who remembers what once stood there, powerful and majestic, poised over him like divinity, a king who was dethroned amidst the flames. There's nothing to indicate that there once was another building there, walls that contained childhood memories, Christmas lights, and late night arguments. And no one remembers, except for Changkyun.

People tell themselves that the new year is a fresh start for everyone, it's a chance to rid yourself of the past and move on. And that's what most people do. They don't remember the family who lived in that green house anymore, they don't know their names, they don't know their faces. The skeleton of a new house has been erected and there are workers building upon it every day. Soon there will be a new home there, and new people to inhabit it. 

Others say that the house will be haunted, that you will be able to hear the agonized screams of a burning boy when you're standing in the doorframe or trying to go to sleep at night. Maybe becoming a ghost story isn't so bad after all. It's better than being forgotten. 

Changkyun sits on the sidewalk opposite his own house, and gazes into his room. He can kind of see inside it: his white walls and ceiling lamp, the posters he put up years ago that he never bothered to change. If he looks hard enough he sees himself, staring mouth agape at the sight of a burning house. He looks away because he hates the thought of it.

And Jooheon is there too. He sits a little further away, like he always does, because he's afraid to sit too close in a way. Changkyun doesn't really understand, but he doesn't object. People mourn in different ways, and this is how Jooheon chooses to do it. He mumbles something under his breath, his lips move softly. They're reddened, as if he has been biting into the skin and let the blood seep out. By now they're redder than his hair: the color is fading from it and the roots have grown out like charcoal. 

“You're too far away.” Changkyun says “I can't hear you.” 

“I said,” Jooheon pipes up. He sounds mad but not more than usual “I don't know anything about you.” 

Changkyun thinks about it too, but can't find anything odd in it. “Well, we've only known each other for a month or two.” 

“We always talk about Minhyuk.” Jooheon retorts. There's disgust on his face. “So I don't know anything about you. Like your birthday. Or your favorite color.” 

“January 26th. And I like blue.” 

Silence falls for a moment. 

“The point is we should be making conversation.” 

Jooheon sighs. Changkyun is really not good at this. Maybe he would have known that if he actually knew him. 

“Sorry, I don't really get the point.” Changkyun says “Why force a conversation?”

“Because if I don't force you, you won't say shit.”

Changkyun thinks about it for a moment, and concludes that he doesn't want to tell Jooheon anything. He doesn't want to talk or open up to him because that's not what their relationship is. The only one they have in common is Minhyuk: he's the only link between them, the only tether that keeps them connected. What if Changkyun had never seen the fire in the first place? What if he had never woken up that night to witness it all? He wouldn't have known Jooheon, his red hair or his dangerous eyes. They're just strangers: and in a way Changkyun is okay with that. 

“I don't always want to talk about Minhyuk. It makes me depressed.” Jooheon continues when Changkyun doesn't answer. It sounds sort of pathetic. “Maybe I just want to get to know you.” 

But Changkyun doesn't refuse, because he's not a bad person. 

“Okay.” He says “Let’s hang out more.”

He's not sure that his words are genuine.

\--

The broker had told them about it first. That the house is haunted and if you listen close enough you can hear the screams of a boy on fire. The broker had looked at Kihyun and told him that the boy probably wasn't much older than him when he died. It's not a very good strategy when selling houses but Kihyun’s parents were sold either way. They don't believe in ghosts. Kihyun shouldn't either.

His room is nice and furnished, white walls and all. It smells like paint and wood, and the sun shining through the window kind of blinds him, but it's nothing curtains can't fix. He knows where his bed is going to be: against the left hand side of the room, squeezed into the corner, his desk against the opposite wall. If he looks out the window, he overlooks the neighborhood, the houses aligning the road like soldiers on duty. The neighbor’s window opposite his is wide open, white walls and posters, and Kihyun thinks he sees the glimpse of a person. Yes, curtains are definitely a must.

The first few times he meets his neighbors are fairly straightforward. Some of them come and greet his parents on the porch with a freshly baked pie or some homemade stew, and others greet them on the streets. The woman in the house opposite them tells them that they are much welcome to the neighborhood and that they will thrive. She looks at Kihyun and asks how old he is. 

“Eighteen.” Kihyun says. He's going to move out soon either way, he thinks, even if his mom wants him to stay at home when he goes to college. 

“I have a son your age.” The woman says. She looks somewhat delighted. “I could introduce you two.” 

Kihyun thinks back on the figure in the window, remembers dark hair and a small build. He'd rather not be introduced through someone's parent. Maybe he doesn't want to be introduced at all. There was just something ominous about that shadow in the window, like he can't fully trust the person of whom it belongs to. But Kihyun does not decline because his mother raised him better than that. 

Kihyun is only there to make sure that his stuff gets into his bedroom and that's it. He doesn't really want to stay in the house for too long, because there's just something weird going on. He promises himself that he didn't believe the broker’s ghost story or anything like that, because he is eighteen years old goddamnit and he doesn't believe in that kind of stuff. But when he stood by his window and gazed out over the vacant street below him, he thought he could hear a distant wailing. It was probably all his imagination, but he didn't want to stay there for too long. His stomach tingled at the thought that he'd better get used to it: this is his new home after all. 

It's raining by the time Kihyun reaches the small park in the vicinity. There are a few kids running around here and there, playing around innocently as if the rain doesn’t bother them at all. In the corner of his eye he sees two figures hunched over on a bench, staring at him. He knows without even having to look. Kihyun always knows that sort of stuff because maybe he's particularly sensitive to it: he has never really liked attention. He tries to turn around discreetly to get a good look at the two of them: they're young boys, maybe his own age. It's obvious that one of them had once dyed their hair, a vibrant red maybe, but by now his roots are grown out and the rest of his hair a faded combination of pale red and yellow. The other one has jet black hair: just like Kihyun himself, in a desperate need for a haircut. It's shaggy and long and it falls into his eyes and Kihyun can't quite get a good look at him. 

Kihyun doesn't want to approach them. Maybe it would be a good idea to make friends in the neighborhood but there's just something about them and he can't quite grasp what it is. They must be delinquents. There is no other explanation. And Kihyun can't hang out with people like that either way: he's a grade-A student, with the qualifications of a class representative in his back pocket. He could never be seen with those two even if he had wanted to. Instead, Kihyun continues his walk through the rain until he passes both of them. When he takes the same route back, they're gone.

\--

Kihyun can hear a crackling by his ear and a distant scream by the other. It sounds as if someone is standing there, right outside his window on the lawn, screaming at him, begging to be noticed. So Kihyun opens his eyes, but when he does the crackling stops and the screams die out. There's nothing, no sound, not even a car or an airplane, no soft snores coming from his parent’s bedroom. Kihyun isn't even sure that his heart is beating or his lungs are breathing. All he can see is a pale yellow light from the window, illuminating his ceiling like the light from a candle.

\--

His name was Minhyuk and he died in a fire. No one knows how the fire started, but they all know of the person busting through the front door, screaming as their body turned to smoke. Some say it was Minhyuk. Others prefer not to think about it.

\--

Kihyun puts two and two together fairly quickly. Of course, he would prefer if he didn't have to, because meeting the neighbor boy is awkward to say the least. Kihyun wonders if he should tell him that he saw him in the park, but he decides he shouldn't. He can play dumb if he has to, even if he doesn't particularly like it.

The neighbor boy doesn't say much. Maybe it's just the way he is but his silent demeanor makes it difficult to determine whether he actually likes Kihyun or not: and it's not like it matters because Kihyun doesn’t particularly like him back. He's not menacing, because who could be with a face like that? He's soft and young, and his skin is pale and translucent. If anything, he looks more like a victim than an attacker. 

His name is Changkyun and he is eighteen years old too. He's not older than Kihyun, yet it feels as if he knows more than he ever will. Perhaps it's his eyes: they look like they've seen pain, loss and tragedy, and other things that Kihyun can't bring himself to even imagine. Kihyun catches himself staring as Changkyun takes him on a tour of the neighborhood, and luckily Changkyun doesn't notice. Well, that's what he thinks at least.

\--

Jooheon's black hair makes him look too normal. And he hates it.

So Minhyuk is the one who suggests it first: dye it. Stick out from the crowd. Don't be like the others. Jooheon doesn't want to make it look like he's following Minhyuk's footsteps, because it'll make it seem as if it's a couple thing: and the two of them are not a couple. But Minhyuk says that red would suit him: it's his favorite color after all. That's enough to convince Jooheon. 

Jooheon had never really liked Minhyuk's house. There was always something lingering in between the walls, a presence in a way, and it settled on his shoulders as an irrational fear. Minhyuk said he felt it too. That's why he never wants to be at home. That's why he leaves so early and comes home so late. That’s why he prefers to be with Jooheon. He feels safer with him. And Jooheon just lets him come with him even if he doesn't quite understand why. When he stands in the doorframe to Minhyuk's room and absorbs the strange electricity in the air, he finally does.

\--

Does Kihyun like Jooheon? No not really. Kihyun concluded that his indifference for Changkyun was just a matter of habit: that he would get used to his oddness eventually. But it's different with Jooheon: his eyes are squinted and suspicious. They eye him up and down until he gazes into Kihyun's eyes, and he's sure he looks petrified but he doesn't look away. He can't look away even if he wants to. And Kihyun knows that even if he tries to like Jooheon, he’ll never be able to.

“Who the hell are you?” Jooheon asks. He's not courteous in his speech nor does he even greet him properly. Kihyun is kind of taken aback because no one has ever spoken to him like that before. 

“I’m Kihyun. I just moved here.”

“Oh yeah. The new kid.”

No. Kihyun doesn't really like Jooheon. 

He understands that Jooheon and Changkyun spend a lot of time in the park. When Kihyun stands by his window he can see their silhouettes on the bench, barely moving at all. It's odd. Maybe it's scary too. Or maybe they just don't have anything better to do. They're always sat next to each other, not too close but not too far away either. Kihyun doesn't even think he has ever seen the both of them touch each other, or even slightly brush each other's arm in passing. Hell, Kihyun even bumped into Changkyun the first day they met, and they continue to do so every time they see each other. Maybe Jooheon doesn't want to be touched. Maybe he's just one of those people. 

Kihyun prefers being alone with Changkyun. He's quiet and odd, but he's not too bad once you get to know him. When Jooheon's with them he kind of takes over the whole atmosphere and manages to make everything seem forbidden. Even a walk across the park feels taboo when walking with Jooheon: there are always eyes turned to them or children pointing and parents hushing. Changkyun seems a bit more innocent, and Kihyun thinks that they maybe have that in common. 

“Is it true” Kihyun asks one day as they sit on the swings “that someone actually died in a house fire where my house is now?” 

Kihyun feels as if he's asking about something confidential and that Changkyun is not actually allowed to answer. But Kihyun wants to know. It's been a few weeks since he moved in, and every night he thinks he can hear a scream before it disappears with the opening of his eyelids. And the more he thinks about, the more he scares himself. And Changkyun just seems like the type of person who knows everything.

Changkyun nods solemnly in response before settling his gaze on Kihyun's house in the distance. He looks enchanted, but there's that hint of fear too: one that Kihyun catches in his own reflection from time to time. 

“Minhyuk, right? That was his name?” 

“Yeah. But I didn't know him. No one really did.” Changkyun replies. “Except for Jooheon.” 

Of course it has to be Jooheon. 

“They were friends?” 

Changkyun nods. “Best friends.”

Kihyun also nods. Maybe that's why Jooheon is the way he is.

\--

What are the odds of dying in a house fire? What are the odds of such a big house burning down before anyone could notice it?

Maybe they did notice it but they didn't care.

\--

“Jooheon, have you ever thought about how you will die?”

Jooheon stops fiddling with his lighter for a second and looks at Minhyuk. He can't really see him because he's shrouded in the darkness of the night, but his blond hair kind of glows in the dark. 

“Don't tell me you're going emo on me now.” Jooheon laughs. Minhyuk doesn't. 

“I’m serious. I mean we all die eventually. The question is how.” 

Jooheon stays silent for a while. “No. I haven't thought about it. Have you?”

Minhyuk shuffles from his seat in the dark. He pulls out the pack of cigarette from his pocket and stretches his arms towards Jooheon. He gives him the lighter. 

“Yeah, I guess. You know what I like about it though? I don't have to wait and see how I die. I can choose. If I want to die in a car accident, I can die in a car accident.” 

“That's called suicide, Minhyuk.” 

“I know.” Minhyuk's face lights up by the small flame that sparks from the lighter. Smoke surrounds him and his face becomes blurry. “But think about it, you know.” 

Jooheon doesn't.

\--

Kihyun sees Changkyun from his window. Sometimes he just stands there and watches, and it freaks him out most of the time but by now he's learned to get used to the sight and just wave at him. Changkyun always waves back. Kihyun wonders what Changkyun really sees when he stares like that, because he knows that his own face isn't the one he is looking for.

Sometimes Changkyun sits alone and sometimes he sits with Jooheon. Kihyun usually turns around whenever he sees the latter but their meeting is inevitable at times. Jooheon usually just nods at him, and that's the end of it. Kihyun can probably count the amount of words they have exchanged on his fingers. 

When he sees Jooheon he thinks of the terrible screams at night. When he sees the faded color in his hair he thinks of overwhelming flames. Was that the last thing Minhyuk saw before he died? Kihyun closes his eyes and wonders what it's like to die in a fire. If he were sleeping, would it hurt at all? Would he wake up and feel his skin melt off his bones? When he's sitting in his bed he can easily imagine it, flames surging at him like wild animals, leaping out of the window and fueling themselves on the chilly night air. It's scary to think that it happened not too long ago in the exact same spot where he's sitting in his bed. There's some weird kind of electricity in the air: as if the air is pulling something out of Kihyun, robbing him off energy. 

Maybe that's where Minhyuk's room had been as well. Maybe he too could feel the electricity in the air and the suffocation in between the four walls. Maybe he too had been sitting in his bed and wondering what it would be like to die in a fire.

\--

But it can't be real. Can it?

Minhyuk's house can't be that pile of scorched rubble. It doesn't look like his home anymore. There is no green facade, or white porch. There is only a black creature, parading as the remains of a place he once knew. It can't be real. It just can't. 

Jooheon's first instinct is to look for the bodies. He thinks to himself that maybe he has keen eyes, maybe he's more observant than the others in the crowd. Maybe he will be the one to find Minhyuk's corpse and not anyone else. He feels entitled to it in a way. But there is nothing under that pile. They must have already taken away the bodies. Jooheon misses Minhyuk. 

How could he do that to him?

\--

Jooheon doesn't understand why he hates Kihyun, because the boy didn't ever do anything wrong. Maybe he looked at him funny once, but he's not sure that is justified. He just can't get his face off his mind, the way he looks so smug and uptight, the way he smiles at Changkyun when he thinks Jooheon isn't looking. And maybe, it's because of the fact that he's sitting on the ground where Minhyuk burned to death. He tries to ignore the fact that Kihyun's breaths occupy a space that Minhyuk ought to have filled. Kihyun is just wrong, out of place. He's not Minhyuk and he never will be. And maybe that's why he hates him.

What makes it worse is that Changkyun likes him. They just clicked in a way and Jooheon finds it disgusting. Maybe they're best friends now. Jooheon is jealous, perhaps, because it's not as if he doesn't know the feeling, and he misses it. Jooheon misses Minhyuk.

\--

Minhyuk wants to die. And he's not scared to say it anymore.

It doesn't matter if people understand him or not. It doesn't even matter if Jooheon understands him. They have a lot in common admittedly but there are just some things that Jooheon doesn't get. After all, he's not the one who has to sleep in that suffocating room, he doesn't need to feel that unbearable spark on his fingertips. It makes Minhyuk want to scream. It makes him go crazy. Why don't people believe him when he says that there is something in his room that wants to kill him?

\--

Kihyun has gone mad. There is no other explanation.

He had disregarded it as being the wind howling in the treetops or the screeching of fighting cats. He had thought that someone was playing an elaborate prank on him or that it was maybe all a dream. But it isn't a dream. Those horrifying screams are very much real and Kihyun feels as if they originate from his very room. 

He tells Changkyun before even telling his parents. He knew how it would have played out either way: they would have laughed at him, invalidated him, and perhaps if he had insisted, they would frown at him in worry. Kihyun doesn't want to deal with that. And he has a feeling Changkyun might be more understanding either way. They sit on Changkyun's bed, waiting for the awkward tension to fade, the one that often arises when Changkyun is present. It's not so much that they're uncomfortable with each other, but Changkyun just is that way. Kihyun fiddles a bit with his shirt in nervousness, because he doesn't know what to say. Or rather, he doesn't know how, because postulating the idea of an eerie haunting would make anyone sceptical, and he's not sure that he knows Changkyun well enough to reveal his personal insanities. 

Changkyun is roaming through a box that he has set in his lap, full of knickknack that Kihyun probably wouldn't have cared for if it didn't relieve the tension between them. He takes up a toy car, worn and old, the varnishing peeling off and the tires slowly inching off their hinges, but it makes him smile nonetheless. Kihyun wonders how many memories that car holds and then realizes he will most likely never know. 

“Changkyun, do you believe in ghosts?” 

His actions come to a halt as Kihyun's voice resonates through the room but settles in between them uncomfortably, like a bad joke. He doesn't answer for a while, and Kihyun thinks he will laugh at him, because why wouldn't he? He is too old to believe in ghost stories, and he is too old to scare himself the way he does. 

“Why are you asking me that?”

“I don't know, I just have this weird feeling. Like I'm not alone.”

Changkyun has set down the box on the floor, whose origin is somewhat unknown now that Kihyun thinks about it. He hadn't really been paying attention because he was too busy formulating his own words, and now that he had, he wanted nothing more than for Changkyun to pick up the box again and tell him more of his childhood. 

Changkyun watches him intently, and Kihyun thinks it reminds him of Jooheon in a way: the way the eyes narrow and that glint of suspicion gleaming like gemstones in his irises. It's odd to tie both of them together because in a way, they don't even exist on the same plane. Kihyun finds it hard to associate them, or believe the idea that they are somehow friends, because their lack of body and eye contact would suggest otherwise. Maybe they have just learnt the unconscious cues from each other: those narrowing eyes and clenching fists.

“You think there is a ghost?”

“I know I sound crazy but--”

“No.” Changkyun interrupts him “I hear it too.” 

Kihyun isn't even sure he's breathing anymore. Changkyun’s stare is intense and determined and Kihyun thinks his gaze will drill a hole in his body and leave an empty space where there ought to be courage and bravery. And maybe Kihyun is a bit scared: mostly relieved, but scared. If Changkyun hears the ghost too then that must mean he's not crazy right? Or maybe they both are? Or maybe, just maybe, there actually is a ghost. 

“You can hear him?” He asks. His voice doesn't carry his words as far as he had wanted to, but Changkyun has keen ears and a taste for hushed secrets. “You're not kidding me right? You can also hear him?”

Changkyun only nods. He looks a bit scared too. 

“Ever since that night,” he says “I can hear Minhyuk.”

\--

His screams, his cries. Changkyun can never forget, even if he wants to. Every night as he closes his eyes he can hear the shrilling sound pierce through the unbearable silence that has shrouded the neighborhood, and Changkyun wonders if there will ever be an end to this. Will he always wake up in the middle of the night, tortured by the screams of a boy who ought to be dead and gone from this world?

There is no doubt about it. Minhyuk's ghost is haunting him. 

And when he told Jooheon, the older had lashed out at him. It was an odd sight because it rarely ever happened, even if fury seemed to swim skin-deep in him at all times. His eyes had sparked in anger and his body grew in a way, to seem more threatening and imposing, or maybe it was all the anger that made him swell and burst. He had scolded Changkyun for being ridiculous and insensitive, insisting that ghosts just don't exist: and Minhyuk's ghost is no expectation. 

“Minhyuk is dead, okay? He's fucking dead. Why can't we leave it at that and move on?” 

And Changkyun thought he spotted a hint of sadness in Jooheon too. He wanted to be like the rest of the town: drenched in oblivion and pure ignorance, forgetting the whole incident ever happened, transforming Minhyuk into a painful memory that would fade as he grows older. Changkyun never took Jooheon for that kind of person, who let go of memories so fast, who disposed of them like garbage in the sea water. And Changkyun thought that they won't fade away just like that: they will pile up and pollute until the surface of the water is no longer visible. 

But Changkyun doesn't say anything because he doesn't want Jooheon to knock him down. He knows he is capable to. He has never seen Jooheon use his fists in a spurt of violence, because most of the time he's mellow and calm, and sometimes Changkyun wonders whether Jooheon actually chose his tough persona for himself or if someone else did for him: but Changkyun knows that Jooheon is capable to. He would probably do anything for Minhyuk.

\--

_To Jooheon,_

_I should have properly said goodbye to you, but it's too late now. I don't think this letter will reach you but I think I'll somehow feel better if I write it. Maybe it's because I am selfish and I don't actually care what you will feel. I just want to get out of here before someone else takes me out first. I am so tired._

\--

“Get your fucking ass down here!”

Kihyun would have believed it was doomsday had he not recognized the voice. Jooheon's vocals are difficult to not recognize, and somehow Kihyun wishes he didn't. He wishes that he had never actually heard Jooheon's voice in the first place. 

He looks out the window and sees a dark figure in the dusk, hooded and menacing, but he sees the faded red and narrowing eyes. Jooheon stands on the sidewalk, and if Kihyun hadn't known better he would have said that Jooheon was too scared to come close: but he quickly realized that Jooheon wasn't the one who felt fear. He was. Kihyun gulps loudly, hopes that his parents had somehow heard Jooheon and are already starting to confront him, but there is only a prolonged silence before Jooheon speaks again. 

“I can fucking see you.”

Kihyun doesn't know why he had opened the door to his room, or why he had gone down the stairs or opened the front door. He doesn't know why he had willingly walked into Jooheon's angry clutches and throwing himself into trouble. 

Jooheon grabs him by the collar of his uniform, and even though the grip isn't particularly strong, there is determination in it, and it burns brightly in his eyes as well: that spark of fury that Kihyun had noticed is characteristic of him by now. 

“You think you're so funny, huh? Someone died and you think it's funny to make up all these stories? You must really be desperate for attention.” 

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Jooheon tightens his grip even more and Kihyun regrets his decisions. He doesn't even dare to look into his eyes. 

“Changkyun told me everything.”

“It's not what you think.”

“Shut up, you piece of shit.” Jooheon throws him to the ground before Kihyun could even register it, and only the stinging pain on his knees and palms bring him back to reality: and the reality is that Jooheon is towering over him like a predator, but there are tiny droplets dripping from his sharp face until they land somewhere in the darkness below. He brings his hands up to shield his face but Kihyun has already seen, so it doesn't really matter anymore. “He's dead. Minhyuk is dead. He's not a ghost, because he is dead and he is gone and he will never come back.” 

Kihyun feels sorry for Jooheon. He looks small and fragile as he sinks to the ground because his knees couldn't support his weight anymore. He looks like a small child who has been robbed of his innocence far too early, and Kihyun wants to appease the quivering of his body but he can't, because he doesn't understand. Jooheon curls himself into an intangible lump of darkness on Kihyun's lawn and his sobs are the only sound breaking the silence. It would have scared Kihyun, terrified him even, if these had been normal circumstances, but they weren't. 

He drags him into his lap, and Jooheon doesn't even protest. He just lets himself be handled the way that Kihyun pleases, lets his body fall limp and lifeless and Kihyun wonders if someone can die of heartbreak and sadness. And if they can, they would probably look a lot like Jooheon. 

“I could have saved him.” Jooheon says. He has stopped shaking and by now he just sounds empty. “But I didn't listen to him. I didn't care.” 

These words mean nothing to Kihyun. He doesn't understand Jooheon and it frustrates him in a way, because he feels as if he never will. Perhaps, if they had met in another life, in another dimension, one where Minhyuk was still alive and Jooheon's hair still a vibrant red. Maybe they would have been good friends, and maybe they would have understood each other. 

“Fires don't just happen like that.” It sounds like a confession. “It wasn't an accident.” 

Kihyun doesn't answer Jooheon. He doesn't know what to say. Instead he looks up towards the house on the opposite side of the road and spots Changkyun's face in the window. He's pale and translucent, and maybe he's the real ghost: not Minhyuk. He stands there, an unwavering gaze settled on the pair of them sprawled out on the lawn, but he doesn't move. He doesn’t even blink. 

Kihyun thinks that maybe it's all in his head.

\--

Minhyuk had left Jooheon's house at 11.24pm. Mostly it had been because his brother practically threw him out, but Minhyuk figured it had been time to go home either way. Jooheon follows him a bit on the way, but Minhyuk knows it's just an excuse for him to smoke again. It was all they seemed to do together: smoke and do drugs, and ingest things that could impossibly be good for them in the long run.

“Sorry for bothering your brother. I don't think he likes me.” 

Jooheon scoffs, a cloud of smoke surrounds him. “He's an asshole, don’t worry about it.” 

The closer Minhyuk gets to his house, the more he wants to go back. 

“Jooheon.” 

“Yeah?”

“Do you love me?”

Jooheon stays quiet for a while. “Why are you asking me that?”

“I’m just wondering.” 

Jooheon clams up again and Minhyuk just wants to disappear into a dark hole and never come back again. 

“I don't know. Do you love me?”

“Yeah, I do.” 

“Then I love you too.” 

Minhyuk smiles a bit because that is all he needed to hear. 

And when he gets home, his house is doused in that yellow light that Minhyuk hates. It makes it look as if the world is decaying and old and his house looks even scarier than during the day. Minhyuk hates it. He hates the disgusting pale green that paints its facades, and he hates the staircase, and the wallpapers and the way his mother decorated the living room, or the way that his parents’ yells resonate between the walls on a particularly bad night. He hates his room too, it's empty and stale but that's because he had never bothered to decorate it. It's not like he spends any time in there anyway. He usually goes to sleep and then he wakes up and leaves his room behind again. Leaving it is the only way to shed the electricity that possesses his limbs. It's the only way for him to avoid that abyss of madness that he has been avoiding for so long. 

And this time, Minhyuk can't avoid it anymore.

He thinks of Jooheon, and the way his face looks so intimidating, but also the dimples that form on his cheeks whenever he smiles. He thinks of Jooheon's words as they had walked home and he replays them over and over again. 

Then he takes out a pen and a paper, he scribbles something down without really thinking about it, because it doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore. The only thing that Minhyuk knows is the static presence in his room, that inexplicable being that wants to kill him. Minhyuk can't be killed if he kills it first. 

And the last thing he remembers thinking is that the fire reminds him of Jooheon's hair.

\--

Jooheon is gone the next morning.

He hadn't even said goodbye. He hadn't even left a note. When the sun had risen above the horizon and welcomed a new day, Jooheon had disappeared. 

And it takes Kihyun and Changkyun a few days before realizing that he will probably never come back. 

Everyone says it's because he had gone mad, that he had stared deeply into the flames and lost himself to insanity and guilt. They say Minhyuk's ghost was haunting him and he left because he couldn't stand it anymore. Some even say that Jooheon isn't even alive anymore. 

“It’s my fault.” Changkyun says “I made him leave.”

Kihyun looks at him from his side of the bench. His hair falls into his eyes by now and he can't see them at all. He can't determine what emotion he displays or what feeling his face is wearing. He can only hear his voice and it carries nothing but guilt. 

“No, it’s not your fault.” Kihyun replies “You didn't make him like this.” 

“I didn't even know him at all. I didn't want to get to know him. I never tried.” 

Kihyun knows that. It was visible in the way that they never touched, never smiled fondly at each other, or seemed to treasure the other’s presence. “Why not?”

“Because Minhyuk was all we had.” His voice is thick. “It’s what connected us. Maybe he felt less guilty because someone else had seen the fire. Maybe he could trick himself into thinking that it was my fault, and not his.” 

“It wasn't anyone's fault.” 

“Minhyuk shouldn't have died in that fire.” 

“Okay. Then it means this is all Minhyuk's fault.” 

Changkyun nods tentatively after a while. It's easy to blame the dead. 

And sometimes the dead visit them at night. When they both sit in Kihyun's bed in the late hours of the night, when they lean against each other for support: they hear a sudden wailing outside the window, and they both just close their eyes and listen because it's all they can do. 

“What if I never stop hearing him?” Kihyun says. “Is this what my life is going to be? A ghost story?” 

Changkyun burrows himself into Kihyun, and the warmth lulls them both into some kind of slumber. “One day maybe, we will forget all of this.”

And Kihyun wonders if the screams that Changkyun hears are but a mere memory that will fade with time as he grows old and replaces it with better ones. Maybe he only hears what he wants to hear.

And the last thing Kihyun thinks to himself before falling asleep is that he's probably the only one who can truly hear Minhyuk's ghost after all.

\--

_Firebug: a person who deliberately sets fire to property_

\--


End file.
